Faulty Wiring
by ToulouseD
Summary: The reason is that our reasons to engage in this arrangement differs. While Kurosaki is in it for the sake of . . . of my attributes, I'm in it because of something far more severe. The classic physical relationship turned emotional. Gotta start somewhere. I wanted to make it angsty, but I'm afraid it crossed into humor instead.


My face feel cold from the metal-grating I'm currently being pushed up against. It's going to leave a bruise. But even though my cheek is starting to resemble my Quincy attire and the constant push from behind is pressing me further into the vent, I couldn't – or wouldn't, rather – stop it.

Kurosaki's strangled breath is coming short from behind me. He is close now. I've spent my own seed approximately 30 seconds ago and is now feeling the aftermath of that, along with arc of my back, the cold ventilation in my eyes, further cooled by the sweat on my brow, and the slow aching in my hips.

Kurosaki Ichigo and I are what one could call fuckbuddies. There's not anymore to it. No sweet nothings in the dead of night, no soothing caresses in the moonlight or promises that none of us intend to keep. And I, being the realistic one, know that it will not become this.

The reason is that our reasons to engage in this arrangement differs. While Kurosaki is in it for the sake of . . . of my attributes, I'm in it because of something far more severe.

I became aware of my feelings towards him when I sat cross-legged on the boulder in Urahara-san's basement before we went to Hueco Mundo to save Inoue-san. I don't know why, but the moment I saw him my senses went blank, my mind experienced a circuitbreak, and for some strange reason my heart clenched. The wiring in my brain sent short, stingy shock-waves through my body and I knew. Because I realized that this was an unrequited and therefore fruitless sort of attachment.

I might have been in love with him for quite a long time without realizing it, and when presented with him after a months absence it clicks. I really couldn't say.

I never saw myself as a masochist, but I couldn't help but feel elated, after he initial shock, when he stabbed me through my abdomen. Not because I was happy to die, that I became hard because of the pain, not anything remotely close to that. But I figured that after he came to his senses, he would look at me. Finally look at me. I was hoping that him stabbing me would result in something deeper or more profound than what had passed between us at this point in time. I was wrong. And somehow that stung even worse than _Tensa Zangetsu_ through my stomach.

We had nothing but barbs and professional respect for each other. And his compulsory need to constantly save my ass because he regarded our relationship as friendship. And quite frankly, then it annoyed me when he told me to protect Inoue-san from his _reiatsu_ with my own body if necessary. But afterward, after he disappeared through the hole in the sky, after that I felt a weight upon my chest. Knowing that he would never do anything of the sort for me.

But what has always puzzled me exceedingly was that none of the two ever got the tension. Kurosaki is dense, yes, but Inoue-san's attraction is so easily seen that even a blind monkey rummaging through a moonless night with nothing but a stick and a banana would know she liked him.

When we returned to Karakura . . . Kurosaki wasn't Kurosaki anymore. However, his friend, or baboon-like follower, Asano didn't really bother with this and threw him a party. A party everyone involved in the passed battle was forced to participate in. I didn't understand how Asano thought that this was the way to help Kurosaki with the loss of his powers, his parting with Kuchiki-san or coming to terms with the monster he had had to rely on to defeat Aizen and his various minions.

To my surprise, Asano's method was quite effective. Just another sentiment to how poorly I know Kurosaki. I didn't want to be there but Sado-kun's almost pleading look made me stay. For some reason he figured that I needed this too. Frankly he was right.

I have never had so much alcohol in my entire life. Correction, I've never had any alcohol prior to this. And I don't think I handled it well. I remember nothing past 10pm and considering the party started at 7pm, it seems like a rather weak performance.

I awoke the next morning, my head heavy and sluggish, my throat dry, my vision spinning. The entirety of it sucked fucking Quincy-cock. I'm not usually prone to profanities outside insulting Kurosaki, battle and opponents of lower mental standing with minds resembling Asano's, but this was hell. I guess he's a nice and surely a hilarious person if you get to know him, but I never felt any desire to mingle further with Kurosaki's gang than absolutely necessary.

I felt something stir beside me and I groggily looked over my shoulder. I nearly had a heart attack and an acute case of projectile vomiting when I saw the unruly orange spikes on the pillow next to me. I turned from him and held the blanket close to my chest. My knuckles practically turned white and my jaw soon felt as sore as my bottom.

By that I gingerly removed the blanket only to confirm I was naked.

"Shit." I whispered and pushed my eyes close.

He stirred again and I immediately relaxed my features. I might not applaud our circumstances, but he could not be thrilled either. I expected him to kick me out of the bed and screamingly demand an answer as to why I was in the same bed as him and why there wasn't a female there as well.

He sat up, scratched his head and slowly peered over his shoulder, just like I had. At least that's what I imagined him doing, my eyes were closed and so I couldn't see but I didn't feel him shift. Until I felt the mattress dip down just behind my back and I could practically feel his body hovering over mine. He stayed there for a long time, as if he was examining my existence, making sure my chest was indeed flat, my hips indeed slender and my waist indeed not inviting like a woman's.

Then I heard him gasp. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

The mantra was repeated thoroughly. I realized that he had realized who I was. That I was not just a flat-chested girl resembling Kuchiki-san with black hair and petite build. Not that I'm that frail. I'm slender, skinny some might say, but my weight and height are average, so being a little bony is nothing to worry about. Even though Inoue-san doesn't believe a word of that.

I guess from a very drunken perspective my lanky, pale and dark-haired appearance could be mistaken for Kuchiki-san's petite, slender and also dark-haired persona. But you'd have to be drunk. Really drunk. But then again, one would have to be quite intoxicated to sleep with your friendly rival, a guy to boot, so I believe that says something about Kurosaki's intake.

He left. The moment I heard the door be slammed shut, I gathered my clothes, found my wallet and put on my shoes. Kurosaki had left a few thousand yen. Somehow that made me feel used. The hotel wasn't that expensive so I paid with Kurosaki's money. It was a cheap, dirty love-hotel in the dingier part of town. They gave me knowing looks on my way out, the staff. Using Kurosaki's money made me feel less like a whore.

The walk home was uncomfortable. My hips were sore, my head hurt and my mouth tasted like death and despair. I stayed home the entire weekend.

When Monday came I felt slightly nervous and hesitant. My plan was to act as if nothing had happened. I didn't know how many people had seen us, how many had figured out what had happened or if anybody had even noticed anything. To my relief, no one had.

"Ishida-kun, did you arrive home safely?" Inoue-san asked worriedly and looked at me with those huge gray eyes she had. I simply nodded and smiled a little. I still didn't feel it was safe enough to open my mouth, somehow I still couldn't get the taste of dying-dog-in-the-rain out.

Kurosaki didn't greet me. But no one noticed. He scowled even more than before and who could really blame him. He had lost so much during the past week and had awoken with a teenage-boy in a love-hotel bed the following morning to boot. I don't think anybody blamed him.

One might wonder how we got to the vent at this point, but it is relatively simple.

It was a Thursday afternoon, it was hot and dry, the electrical wires were humming annoyingly, so while doing my homework I put my headphones in my ears and turned up the volume. My apartment is great, really, but during the summer, when the heatwaves come and go regularly, it is hell. Opening a window means letting the constantly humming wires pierce my otherwise quiet apartment.

I had a balcony no wider than two feet, it was lovely, but useless. No man in their right mind would sit out there without any kind of protection against the whining of the wires. They did provide a great seating space for the different pigeons and sparrows that inhabited Karakura though.

However, the living room quickly proved unbearable to remain in, so I moved out on the balcony, There was room for a single chair. I sat down, pushed the volume to maximum capacity and began reading tomorrow's math and history.

It wasn't until someone kicked my chair I realized that I wasn't alone.

"Ishida, what the fuck! Are you deaf or something?"

"If I was deaf I wouldn't need a pair of headphones to read on my balcony. What kind of a greeting is that? You're so ill-mannered, Kurosaki." I retorted as if his presence truly meant nothing to me.

He crossed his arm and stood for a long time with a distant look as if pondering what he wanted to say. I closed my book and let it dump down on the ground.

"How did you get my address?" I inquired with an arched eyebrow.

"I walked by and saw you up here. I tried shouting at you, but you didn't hear me. Then a woman in your building buzzed me in. And, well, you didn't have your door locked –"

"That's not an invitation!" I sneered and got up.

I marched into the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of water from the fridge.

"Would you stand still? I'm trying to talk to you."

I turned and took a long sip of the cold water. "What do you want, Kurosaki?"

"I want to talk to you."

He scratched the back of his head and sighed in an defeatist manner. "This is a whole lot harder when you're being a smart-ass." he tried defending himself.

"I'm being a little critical seeing as you broke into my home."

"Ishida, would you please shut the fuck up?" he demanded. I was a little taken aback. This banter was usually how we communicated, without that I really didn't know how to talk to him. It was insanely awkward since none of us seemed to know how to proceed from there. Double on me, seeing as I wanted to comb my fingers through his hair, kiss him senseless and let him bang me next to my kitchen appliances.

"We had sex." he suddenly announced as I was taking another sip of my water. I nearly choked. I think he interpreted that as surprise. Surprise at the revelation. Not at the fact that he would put it so bluntly, not to mention bring it up in the first place.

"Excuse me?"

"Last Friday we had sex. I just thought you should know that it was me, and not, y'know, someone . . . someone . . ."

He was just so eloquent at times.

"Yes, Kurosaki?"

"Someone weird."

"Someone weird? Anybody who would have sex with a man so carelessly is weird by definition." I couldn't do anything but snipe at him. Telling him I knew would make this already awkward conversation flat-out embarrassing. He seemed to ignore my reply.

"Just so you didn't wander around and wrecked your brain or anything. I just wanted to save you some time, you're smart, you would've figured it out somehow. I just wanted to tell you."

"Just to be sure?" I lightly mocked him, using the word just thirty times in a sentence. I hadn't been capable of focusing on much of the rest he'd said.

"Why do I feel like you're making fun of me? This was not exactly easy, Ishida!" he yelled.

"You think it was easy leaving that hotel after you?"

"I wouldn't know, you haven't exactly told me anything!"

"Why would I tell you that I left a love-hotel the morning after Asano's party?"

"Shut up, Ishida, you knew it was me!" he pointed his finger towards me.

"Then why the hell did you come here to tell me?"

His face faltered. "You're not denying it?" he asked hesitantly.

I rolled my eyes at that. "You scrambled around that bed like there was no tomorrow. I woke up, fell asleep, woke up, you were gone. Why is this such a big deal?"

I took another drink. My voice was trembling slightly and my throat was uncomfortably dry. Kurosaki stared at me for a good ten seconds. "It's a big deal because we're friends, Ishida."

I shrugged. "It was pleasurable."

Why did I treat this so casually? This was not how I was! This was a fucking big deal! Shit! Kurosaki looked at me like I was a bastard without compare. I wanted to kick myself. Maybe ram my head into the one of the cabinets.

"It was pleasurable?" he repeated slowly and walked closer. I nodded nonchalant and drank again. And somehow, we ended up in my bed.

Despite the warmth outside, it didn't feel as stuffy or burning in the bed. And mark my words, it wasn't pleasurable. It hurt, it stung and I had no idea why anybody would volunteer to participate in this kind of activity. Kurosaki's length split open my lower body. His hands slid up and down my back, while he drove my face down in the mattress. Then he hit a bundle of nerves and I couldn't help but gasp.

I tried stifling my voice as well as I could, if I once start mewling, moaning, and crying his name, I doubt I would be capable of withholding the more intimate secrets of mine. Such as the fact that I liked him. I liked him a lot. And therefore, him pushing into my ass, filling me, stretching me, didn't hurt in a bad way. It hurt, it stung but if it meant that Kurosaki would run his hands up and down my body while doing so, I was willing to let him throw me against the wall, push me down onto the bed or drive me up towards a vent, I didn't care. And that's exactly what he began doing.

This quickly became some sort of silent agreement. In the nighttime, when the moon had retired, the mercury streetlamps pulsed and the electrical wires sang the song of their people, he would come. The sex was hard, rough and absolutely mind-blowing. Mind-blowingly painful at first. After our third meeting and my hips still protested every time he drew near, I decided to read up on the subject. I discovered that we had forgotten a rather important step of the way. Stretching.

After that discovery, it became a lot more enjoyable. After each go he would ask if it was pleasurable. And after each time I would nod and then he would leave.

However, lately Kurosaki haven't been satiable with our nighttime rendezvous alone. Therefore our current position. I can feel him stiffen behind me and knows that he's on the verge of orgasm.

He fills me with a low grunt and collapses on the space a little bit above my head.

He breaths heavily for a few minutes, then pushes himself off the wall, zips his pants and walks over to the railing. We're on the school's roof. It's a miracle we haven't been found out yet, really. I pull up my pants, fasten my belt, fix my hair and straighten out my tie.

"Was it pleasurable for you, Ishida?" he asks as custom dictates he will. I nod. Conversation end. We never talked. All we ever do is fight and fuck. This was not really what I wanted when I pictured myself having a relationship with Kurosaki.

"Ishida, you okay?" he asks and looks at me. I shrug and look away. I want to tell him that I'm starting to have second thoughts on this arrangement, that this really is a bad and unhealthy hobby for the two of us to engage in. But no matter how many times I think this thought, I never pull through.

We've been doing this for about six months now. Today is our half-year anniversary. If it wasn't because I knew how totally ridiculous it sounded, I would've said something, if not to see his reaction, then to put things into perspective.

Lately, as his demand for release has increased, my thoughts on Inoue-san have spiraled out of control. Not that my affections towards Kurosaki has dimmed or withered, not at all, but my reasoning is faltering. Would he do this with anyone who offered themselves to him? Would he ditch my ass if he found out that Inoue-san liked him? Would he ditch my ass if he found out that I liked him?

"Why do you always look like that?" he demands almost angrily.

"This is how my face looks, unfortunately." I deadpan. He's asked this before as well.

"Whatever." Kurosaki sneers. I turn to the door and walk down to our classroom. Inoue-san stops me when I pass her.

"Kurosaki-kun . . . he's on the roof?" she asks and looks hopeful. I nod, adding a little smile. I'm glad to see some of her spark has returned after Ulqiorra's death. I wonder if anybody would mourn my passing like that.

She bows, "Thank you, Ishida-kun." and runs up the stairs. I remain where I stand and ponder if that was the last time I will ever feel Kurosaki's hands on my body.

The grating left quite a nasty bruise that I have to cover up the next few days. Kurosaki didn't come to my apartment last night and he hasn't looked at me all morning. I'll take that as a sign. My day is spent in silence. I merely nod or shake my head. If I speak, my voice will betray me.

It may not have been the most affectionate or intimate relationship, but the closeness of Kurosaki's body, his hands traveling up and down my ribs and chest, as well as those heavenly moments after completion were we sit in companionable silence. It may not have been much, but it was something.

I remember the most intense time as the one in the rain. There was a thunderstorm on our way home, instead of turning right when he should, he followed me home. We reached the building just in time for to avoid the rain. And rain there was. Heavy drops littered the streets of Karakura and drenched anybody who was unfortunate enough not to reach shelter in time.

We went upstairs and the minute the door is closed, Kurosaki started gnawing at my throat. We end up on the balcony. The cold rain drips onto my hair and forehead occasionally and through the loud, roaring thunder Kurosaki can't hear me panting his name. It's the only time we ever faced each other while we did it. I was hoisted up on his hips and while he thrusted into me with wild abandon, I latched on the best I could.

Our eyes met fleetingly, but I quickly severed the contact. It pained me more than a thousand swords to look into those eyes and find that there was nothing there that resembled my own sentiments. We stayed on the balcony, listened to the humming F-note of the wiring while basking in the final afterglow. It had been especially good for me, I had spotted our reflection in the window and I couldn't help but find the image captivating and thoroughly arousing.

Kurosaki had stared at me for about five minutes before I realized I was being scrutinized. "What?"

"Why do you always look like that?"

"I'm sorry if my face displeases you, Kurosaki, but there's unfortunately nothing I can do to alter it."

He sighed and looked away. Kurosaki had left shortly after. I stayed on the balcony. The concrete was damp after the rain and the air practically smelled like electricity. When I got up it was 8 in the evening and the clouds were drawing together. I got a cold for my trouble.

I'm lying on my couch with a book in my hand, trying to comb my way through Kafka's _The Trial_. I can't seem to fully understand what's happening. Usually German books aren't a problem, but my mind keeps circulating back to Kurosaki and Inoue-san. I don't know why, but while lying on my couch reading _The Trial_, I slowly begin to resent her.

I can almost feel jealousy tear my thoughts apart, constantly reminding me of all the things that Inoue-san possess, which I do not. Curves, for one. A radiant smile, brilliant eyes, a genuinely sweet albeit naïve personality. And I resent her for that. I try to compare what I have as opposed to what she lacks. Brains for one. I do not doubt Inoue-san's intelligence, but she's sometimes in her own world. I'm far more serious, solitary, quiet. As I try to hold our two characters up against each other, I find that they feel as different as night and day. And depending on who you are, you prefer either night or day.

I wonder what Kurosaki prefers.

There were these sort of unspoken rules to our sleeping arrangement. Or sleeping-together arrangement. I insisted upon no eye contact. Kurosaki didn't seem to understand why, and he doesn't really seem to care. I feel him staring unabashed at my face, confirmed when I sometimes glance over my shoulder.

That is another rule. Always with my back turned towards him. That's something he demanded, or he flipped me around every time I tried to turn my body around. It was fine with me, though. It meant we never got to see each other. I only felt him, he only felt me.

The third rule is one I wished never was enforced. We don't kiss. We barely do any kind of foreplay. No handjobs, no blowjobs, no kissing, no hugging, no dirty talking. Just sex. Stretching is the closest thing to it. He might nibble on the side of my neck or my collarbone, I might squeeze his shoulders or grind my hips, he might force his thigh between my legs and twist it around, but aside that, there's nothing.

And I wonder. I really do. How would it taste, feel, be like to kiss Kurosaki Ichigo. It's said that when denied what you desire, your desires will heighten. I will agree. Sometimes it burns my muscles to keep still, sometimes I just want to fist his hair and pull him close. Sometimes I wish we were doing it right.

We fuck. I suspect that with Inoue-san he would make love. And I resent that.

After a week without talking, I resign. I walk home with slumped shoulders and make myself a portion of mackerel miso stew. It tastes like shame and guilt. I walk into the living room to finish _The Trial_. After two hours the deed is done and I close the book.

"Wie ein Hund." I repeat the last line and throw the book onto the coffee table. On which Kurosaki and I also have had sex. I sigh. It knocks on my door and slowly I rise. I know who it is, the spiritual pressure I recognize, but I don't really understand what he wants here.

I walk to the door and open up. "Come inside, Sado-kun."

"Thank you." he mumbles quietly. He steps inside and hangs his coat on the clothes tree in the hall.

I walk into the living room and clears the coffee table for books, homework and magazines. He sits and let his hands rest in his lap. The clock ticks in the background and waiting for Sado-kun to state his business, I twirl my thumbs. A minute passes by until I stand up and ask if he would like some coffee. He nods dumbly. I nod in return. I'm just a wonderful conversationalist, no wonder Kurosaki and I never talk.

"Ishida?" he calls while I'm in the kitchen. I respond with a non-committal grunt. I'm not sure if it drowns in the sounds the coffee-machine is emitting, but Sado-kun doesn't respond. I walk in with to mugs of coffee and sit cross-legged from him.

"Is something up?" he asks and I raise an eyebrow. I'm not entirely sure what he expects me to say to that. So I nod and take a sip of coffee. It's bitter as hell, but I drink it anyways. I know Sado-kun prefers coffee to tea.

"Inoue and Ichigo have been acting weird for a week now, did you notice?"

How couldn't I notice. One I hated to love and the other I loved to hate. That was a lie, but it sounded cool in my mind. There's only one person who I love to hate and hate to love and it's definitely not Inoue-san.

"I have." I answer carefully and blow the steam away from my cup. Sado-kun nods simply.

"What do you think of it?" he inquires then.

"Inoue-san went to find Kurosaki the other day. Alone." I inform him. I couldn't help but feel like a gossiping wench. Their business wasn't mine and I should be happy I never had to confront Kurosaki with the fact that Inoue-san likes him.

Sado-kun becomes silent again and drinks a little coffee while he does. I stare off into space. I've been told I do that a lot. But I can't help but wonder why they weren't running around snugging and hugging, kissing and jizzing. I wanted to hit myself. You don't even think things like that.

"I don't think Ichigo is gonna go out with her. If Inoue-san confessed to him it's because she's grown enough to take his rejection without tears. She's really grown up this year." Sado-kun suddenly says and puts down his cup again.

I can't help feeling a little hopeful. I quench that feeling like a spider though.

"Really? What makes you think that?" I ask, trying not to sound to eager. This was a chance at insider information, a _chance_ to _glance_ inside Kurosaki's head. I had to stop rhyming in my head, it wasn't even cool in there.

"I don't think Ichigo likes her that way." he answers economically and looks at me, like he's expecting some sort of eureka!-scream. I want to thwart him. The urge quickly dies down and there has not been a trace of my momentary urge to thrash my friend on my face. I have become quite skillful at hiding my true feelings. Living with Ryuuken does that to people.

"You know, Ishida, you're really easy to read sometimes." he added a while later and rises to his feet. I wonder if he caught my little annoyance earlier. Shit, I think to myself as his visible eye makes contact with my own.

"Maybe it's not a bad thing to show how you feel, once in a while. Have a good night, Ishida." he greets and walks to the door. I stand there confused. What exactly was the point of that visit. I don't even get to return and clean up the mugs before the door is knocked upon again. I glance over my shoulder and make my way back to the hall. Did Sado-kun forget something?

"Did you forget something?" I ask while I open the door, only to find that Kurosaki is standing outside with his hands in his pockets looking livid. He scowls and glares at me. He's wearing a striped purple and black scarf, white hoodie and a black jacket over it, trainers and loose jeans and a pair of headphones. The cord disappears into the pocket were Kurosaki probably keeps his Mp3.

"What was Chad doing here?" he questions. I couldn't do anything but stare.

"Huh?" not my most intelligent response ever, but it conveyed my bafflement quite nicely.

"Are you already on the look-out for another fuck-buddy?" he spits and stares angrily at my door-hinges. I drop my jaw and slowly my brow drew together.

"What on Earth gave you that idea?" I growl, venom laced in every tone of my voice.

"We haven't fucked in a week and you're already searching for another toy? You really like being nailed that bad, huh?"

I'm just about to slam the door right in his scowling face, but he catches the door before it closes and pushes it open. Me being physically smaller and slimmer than him, can't prevent him from pushing his way into my apartment. He tramples into the living room and turn around looking fiercely at me.

"Oh, you offer a cup of coffee now? I don't remember getting a refreshment. Upping your business?"

I can't move. I stand completely frozen in place. My blood is dancing and my vision is practically swimming.

"Don't you have anything to say for yourself? Am I right?" he asks a little surprised, but doesn't realize that my silence isn't consent but pure fury.

"Who do you think you are?" I demand, barely audible. My hands are fisted at my sides, my shoulders slumped, yet tense and my head is bowing down. I can feel tears press the corners of my eyes.

"What?" he examine puzzled and looks at me with a worried frown.

"You push through my door, call me a whore and expect what exactly, Kurosaki?" I pry with barely contained anger shining through.

"I –"

"You are such an asshole!" I scream at him. He looks positively like a deer caught in the headlights. I grab my jacket and smack the door before he can even reply.

It's 12am when I finally return back home. I've been wandering around the park, the school. A Hollow appeared around 10.30pm but it required no bigger effort and it only took one arrow to finish it off.

In the meantime I fumed. I ended up throwing myself down on a park bench and scowl for an hour. He really had some nerve. But as the night grew colder and my breath became visible, cloudy floats of fog, I calmed myself down. So that was his opinion of me. I felt like crying and here in the dark of the night, no one would see my tears.

But even though I had given the them permission to flow, they remained tucked away behind the crooks of my eyes. Instead I kicked the bench.

And my toes still throb as I climb the stairs. Out of habit I go for my keys, but realize I didn't lock up after my dramatic exit. I sigh. I can really be a melodramatic Drama Queen when I want to be.

I walk inside, flick on the lights and stop dead in my tracks. On my couch is Kurosaki, sleeping and snoring ever-so-slightly. His arm is thrown over his face, obscuring the eyes and nose, his legs dangling from the end of the couch and his right arm hanging lifelessly from the side.

Quietly I take off my shoes and jacket, close the front door and walk to the couch. I stand over him for at least five minutes trying to decide whether or not I should kick him out, hit him, kiss him or place a blanket over him.

And suddenly that tear I allowed to flow, slides down my cheek.

Kurosaki stirs and suddenly his face is free from that arm of his. I sit down on the coffee table and watch him. He really is quite handsome. His coppery hair, his quizzical brow, the strong jaw, the toned chest and those garnet orbs.

He's thrown his jacket on the armrest and the hoodie too. He's wearing a t-shirt with some quirky band or other. But it's not the shirt that holds my interest. It's that patch of skin that's showing there. I've seen him without a shirt thousands of times, but somehow this feels more intimate. This time he's not covered in blood, scratches, bandages or torn clothing. He's safe and warm, sleeping on my couch.

His abs are annoyingly perfect. His hip bone is not as protruding as my own, but just enough so, that combined with muscle and light, you get that line from hip down to his manhood. I find that line insanely sexy. Probably because it's on Kurosaki. I can't help but stare. I would gladly whore myself out to him. Which I technically have already. I should post something on .

He stirs again and blinks sleepily. My fight-or-flight response kicks in, but once again I'm frozen in place, so I assume it's my fight-response that's calling the shots now. Kurosaki looks up at me and sits up warily.

"Ishida?"he asks gingerly and wills himself to look up in my eyes. "I'm sorry for calling you a whore. It might've been a little over-the-top."

"You think?" is all I can say. Snap, is the more correct term for what I was doing. Why can I never be cool around him? Why do I go from zero to asshole in 0.7 seconds?

"I'm sorry, okay? No reason to get all angry again." he grouches and crosses his arms over his chest. I stand up and head towards the kitchen.

"You want some coffee or is that upping my business too much?" I want to kick myself. Kurosaki Ichigo is in my living room, not to fuck and flee, but for something I have yet to figure out, and I insist on returning to the matter of whores?

"Coffee would be nice." he answers hesitantly, as if expecting the offer to be a flying cup of scolding coffee in his face. I don't blame him. For the second time that evening I make coffee. For him. I make tea for myself. I'm not sure I can handle two cups a day.

"I take it you didn't come here to insult me." I sigh as I set down the cup in front of him. Am I always this aloof and cold when dealing with people? With him?

"I wanted to ask you something." he tells me after drinking the first three sips. My tea is still drawing taste and I'm patiently waiting for both my tea and Kurosaki's question.

"What are we doing, Ishida? I mean, what were we doing, I'm not really sure if still are."

"We're fucking." I say without heat and sigh heavily. "Why do you ask?"

"I wanted to know. Inoue . . . Inoue asked me, right after we . . . y'know, asked if I was seeing someone. I didn't want to say anything until I had cleared it with you." he said. I heard a faint rattling of porcelain when I saw that Kurosaki was trembling ever so slightly.

"The caffeine too much for you?" I ask him, hoping he'll say no. Just something to signal he's as nervous as I am. He shakes his head and smiles at me. I feel my heart melt and slowly drip down my ribs. I instantly look away. I hate the way I love his smile.

"You have that look again." he comments quietly and turns his face directly towards mine. "The one you have whenever we're done making love."

I do not miss the choice of words and opt to stay silent. Another one of my retarded comments might ruin everything. He eyes me for a long time before he scoots closer.

"Ishida, why do you always look like your crying when I'm near you? I noticed you don't have that expression when you're around Inoue or Chad. Why am I the only one who gets this instead of a smile?"

I slowly turn my head towards him and look him directly in the eye. His brown eyes remind me of warm afternoons in the fall, leaves drifting into my hair, the sun setting early and the last glimpse of summer before a winter takes hold of the tired and freezing sky. That last drop of warm sunshine.

I don't say anything, hoping my eyes will convey my thoughts. I'm not trusting myself to speak, it would surely result in disaster.

"Ishida, what're we doing?" he asks with greater confidence now and looks at me, really looks at me. Looks at me like I wanted him to in Hueco Mundo. I swallow and sigh.

"I don't know, Kurosaki." I reply and rub my face. When it resurfaces, Kurosaki is right in front of me.

"Excuse you?" I try and back a little away. He simply follows.

"Ishida, I'm gonna close my eyes and then I'm gonna kiss you." he announce and I can only stare back.

"What?" I reply stupidly. Scratch previous statement, I do not have brains.

"Ishida, I like you. I really think I like you." he states and sits back in the other end of the couch and rub his eyes. I stand up and walk over to him. He removes his hands and looks a little puzzled that I'm gone. When he sees my standing over him, he grins a little awkwardly.

"Thought you used that _hi-ren_-_ka-ku-_thing you use, that flappy-curtain-feet."

I don't reply again. I should've corrected him. _Hirenkyaku, _not that difficult. I sit down and lock my hands in my lap. "Really?"

"Really, really." he answers, seemingly knowing what I want to know.

"That's good." I smile, apparently he doesn't believe me, facial expression taking into account. He leans forward and puts a hand on top of mine.

"I . . . I . . ."

"Is there a chance that what you're trying to say is that you like me too?" he interrupts and lifts my head with a single finger. I nod and can't help but smile a little. Before I even realize what's happening I can feel my waist being encircled by Kurosaki's arms and find myself being pulled into his lap. I know the most sensible would be to protest a little, but I can't find it in me. Instead I half-crawl, half-climb onto the couch and onto him.

The warmth is so good and insanely comfortable. I'm in his lap and all I can do is let him draw me close. I feel safe. I hug him and press my face down in his hair. It smells like Kurosaki, but also the shampoo he uses, a sharp and spicy smell.

"Close your eyes." I ask and tentatively put my hands on his shoulders. He complies and closes his eyes. I lean forward and gently press my lips against his. My entire body is tingling. My heart is beating so fast that I can't believe it doesn't explode from exhaustion. My arms are littered with goose-bumps and my lips are almost incapable of removing themselves.

I kiss him again. This time he returns the favor and my blood is rushing around my body, making my head dizzy and my fingertips buzz. Kurosaki slides his tongue over my lower lip and I automatically open my mouth and let him in. He tastes sleepy and bitterly like coffee, but underneath that there's an almost cinnamony or cardamom tinge, a sweet and absolutely wonderful flavor.

My hands wander up and through his hair. It's not as coarse as I imagined, neither is it silky soft. But it feels just like Kurosaki under my palms and while I keep his head in place, he keeps me in place by roaming his hands over my entire being. I can't help but moan when his hands snake beneath my shirt and run up my sides.

He withdraws and looks at me with clouded eyes, slightly blushing, smiling teasingly. "I didn't think you moaned, Ishida."

He repeats the gesture and this time I bite my lips to prevent the sound from escaping. Apparently Kurosaki likes what he sees because he pulls me closer and kiss whatever he comes into contact with. I can't help but make sound now. And I've reached the point where I mewl. Wonderful.

Kurosaki removes his face a few inches and licks his lips. "Mewling, Ishida?"

"Shut up!" I demand and kiss him again.

I don't know how long we kiss but at some point Kurosaki decides that he needs to relieve us of our clothing, which doesn't come a moment to soon in my opinion. Suddenly we are lying on the couch in our pants and kissing and groping each other like tomorrow would never come.

"'shida!" Kurosaki hums and licks my collarbone. My breathing is labored and my diaphragm is having difficulty keeping up with my lungs. My brow is sweating and Kurosaki's back is also becoming more and more slippery. I can feel him through our jeans, and I'm sure he can feel me.

He pushes his thigh in between my legs and slowly I begin grinding my hips. Kurosaki raises himself up and watches me. His eyes are almost black and he looks quite predatory. I swallow and Kurosaki takes my mouth again. I know I want more.

I begin messing around with his belt, trying to get the damn thing under my command and after a few minutes struggling I succeed. In my defense were my fingers quite low on blood and my brain was occupied elsewhere. And the moment the buckle release the leather, I attack those Goddamn buttons. They are easier conquered and without further hesitation, the pants are sliding down his thighs.

Kurosaki seems to notice how his pants are leaving his hips and he hurriedly pushes mine off as well. Now clad in only underwear, we lie and feel each other up with renewed energy. It's almost magical to have Kurosaki this close to my own body. We're panting and sweating and kissing and groping and every little piece of it is heaven.

I slowly sit up and once again reclaim my seat in his lap. I can feel how his prick is pulsing and throbbing, how a little bit of precome is making it's way through his boxers. I push him back and kiss my way down his stomach. I let my fingers trace his muscles and swirl my tongue around those abs and let it dip down those lines of absolute sexiness.

I slowly remove Kurosakis underwear and find his member right in front of me. I have to admit, the thought of taking another man in my mouth never really thrilled me, but for some reason I had no objections at the moment. Therefore, with my eyes trained on Kurosaki's face I give his dick a long, lazy lick. His eyes widen and stare directly into mine.

"Ishida." he moan as I take the head into my mouth. He is big, I know this already, but feeling and seeing are two very different things. I let my tongue glide over the slit and hum around him. His hands are fisting the couch as best as they can, his head is thrown back and it doesn't take long before his right hand come to my hair and almost pets me while I lick his manhood.

It doesn't taste as bad as I feared it would. A little deeper than his skin, sweatier, muskier, but not in any way revolting. I begin sucking his dick and the little tremblings that fare through his body is a good indicator that he's close. I increase my efforts and let my hand slide up and down the shaft while I tease and toy the head.

And suddenly, Kurosaki is groaning and spills into my mouth. It's bitter, almost as bitter as coffee, but for some reason, probably because it's Kurosaki's, I don't exactly dislike the taste. Gingerly I swallow the load and when I look up I find him staring at me. He almost drags me up and kisses me hard again. My head is spinning. With a thin coating of Kurosaki's come still on my tongue and his tongue in my mouth, rummaging around, I'm quite excited.

My squirming seems to reawaken Kurosaki's libido and soon he's fully erect again. He pulls away and gasping watches me with near-black eyes.

"Lube?" he asks panting. I just nod, I don't have any breath left for talking. I almost jump off the couch and scamper to the bathroom, finding the little tinfoil-tube of heavenly wonder. I return with my loot and Kurosaki, with a hungry smile and an erection to match, sits up. I step out of my underwear and place myself astride. We both simultaneously hiss and gasp as our pricks touch each other.

I quickly coat my fingers in lube and move my arm to my backside. However, Kurosaki stops me and de-lubes my fingers. Instead he inserts I digit into my cleft and slick with lube as it is, he gently starts rubbing my entrance with tentative movements. I purr under his ministrations and close my eyes.

He breaks through the tight muscle and starts moving his finger in and out. It stings a little. I haven't done anything for a week and it used to be at least two or three times weekly before.

"Fuck, Ishida!" Kurosaki swears and another finger joins the former. I can feel my hands digging into his shoulders and my thighs rocking back onto the fingers. We both look at each other when he starts scissoring and stretching me further.

"God, you're the sexiest bastard I've ever met. Probably why I shagged you at Keigo's party. Fucking drunk, swaying your hips, practically begging to be fucked raw."

"Do you actually remember it?" I ask, interested in his viewpoint on the evening.

He laughs breathlessly. "Not at all, too drunk. Remember you walking like sex on legs though."

I can't reply to that, I don't even remember walking anywhere. Instead I hoist myself up and position myself above his cock. We could have had a staring contest at that moment. I put my lips to his while I lower myself onto his stiff member and I moan into his mouth.

Kurosaki holds me tight around my middle and press me close.

"I'm fucking the student council president." he declares out of nowhere.

"Have been for quite a while, Kurosaki." I roll my eyes and kiss his brow. We sit there for a while, feeling each others heartbeat. He grins again and kisses my collarbone.

"But I've always wanted to tell you that." he chuckles. I hold him tight and begin rocking my hips. I can hear him gasp against my sternum. I grind and ground my abdomen and feel his prick go with me. I then lift myself and promptly sit back down. We both shudder. It's so intense. Our time in the rain can't even compare.

He then looks into my eyes. "I really do like you, Uryuu."

I moan and falls back down on his cock. He groans and I whimper as he thrusts back up against me.

I lean forward and when I'm right beside his ear I whisper, "And I don't hate you, Ichigo.". It's the best I can do if I'm not to start stuttering.

Kurosaki suddenly tips us over so I'm on my back on the coffee-table. And with slow, thorough moves he starts thrusting into me. Whenever he stabs me it's like climbing another step on the ladder. I can feel him closing in on my prostate.

I scream when he finds it. His name leaves my lips and a possessive glimpse crosses his eyes. I can hear him panting my name, I'm groaning his and the coffee-table is begging us both to stop before it breaks. I can hear the faint humming of the wires outside, a window is open.

Kurosaki hits my prostate again and another scream leaves my throat. He hits it with greater frequency now and my legs have locked themselves around his hips. I can hear the coffee-table squeaking menacingly, one leg has already been broken. The only thing we don't break is eye contact. As the pace quickens, as my groans, whimpers, screams and moans grow in intensity, as Kurosaki's own vocal chords are working hard for the sake of my name, I'm so desperately close to heaven. I meet his thrusts, trying to get as much friction as possible.

I come first and spill my load onto my own chest and stomach. Kurosaki follows soon after and spends his load in me. He falls back, I remain where I am. Our breathing is hard and heavy and our muscles have turned to mush. I will myself to sit up, wipe myself down with a page of a magazine and flop over in the sofa beside him. I put my head on his shoulder. While our breathing calms and the afterglow of orgasm leaves us, Kurosaki guides us down on the couch, we lie wrapped around each other. His fingers threats through my hair and I begin to drift when I hear his voice.

"What?" I ask, not having heard his first sentence.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he repeats and I raise myself up on my elbow.

"I didn't exactly expect you to have a favorably response." I answer. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I only just found out. When Inoue came and asked me, I couldn't help but feel disappointed that it wasn't you. And somehow it felt like we were already something. I just didn't know what." he recounts and strokes my head down to his shoulder.

"I knew you liked me since that time we did it in the rain. I heard you chant my name." he then shares.

"That's just fucking fantastic." I growl and hide my face in the crook of his neck. "Again, no tell?"

"What would you want me to say? Hey, Ishida, I know you dig me. We gonna fuck now?"

"Point taken." I concede and reemerge.

"Was that why you always looked like you were ready to jump off a bridge? 'Cause you thought it was one of those unrequited love things?"

"Probably." I concede. "It's funny, isn't it?"

"What is?" he asks tiredly and slides a hand down my belly.

"We never talked much, but suddenly we have something akin to a full conversation during sex."

He chuckles. I guess it's a good thing that I can make him laugh.

"What now? Are you my boyfriend now?" he asks and once again looks a little insecure.

"I'd like that." I admit and snuggle closer. He tightens his grip around me, but I wriggle free, grab a blanket and wriggle back in place.

"Did you just wriggle?" he asks.

"I do many stupid things."


End file.
